Je m’appelle Lisa

I neither got to visit Versailles
Nor know wanderlust’s calm at Gare de Bruges
That glory was one beat too far

Moulin Rouge commanded some checklist, foreign to me
And we’d “miles to go”
Topless beaches on the Med, and all….
Damned dogmas

But Kings and Conductors still summon me
For they heard my name
Nightly, I tell them
You’ve known no such power
And masterpiece
Such God-Speed
As me

So this suitcase sits at my bedside
With ink-pen and parchment
Pinafores and peace


She dressed up
Silly little, frilly little

For him, for her
Can her smile truly know?

Were the days
Was her heart
Not pretty enough?

Why dress up
Why wrap in shining paper
Already there, forever there

The World whispered so

God Said

I might’ve left you there
On the floor, propped up near the door
Gingerly wrapped in plain brown paper 
Instead, as I remember, I scooped you up gladly
Wanting to know why
Shouldn’t you be placed in the center of it all
In the gathering place
So that if they cared
Everyone could know

The Pieces

Nameless, faceless and unable to throw away pieces

Of paper

To do so would be to discard one’s self

And the world doesn’t need anymore sadness

Keep them

The pieces

Keep them for dangerous notes, ideas of intrigue and little love messages

Out of the box and into my heart for safekeeping


The pieces

And your name and that face